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The Idyll Of The Standing Stone Post by :Sarah Category :Poems Author :Madison Julius Cawein Date :June 2011 Read :3346

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The Idyll Of The Standing Stone

The teasel and the horsemint spread
The hillside as with sunset, sown
With blossoms, o'er the Standing-Stone
That ripples in its rocky bed:
There are no treasuries that hold
Gold richer than the marigold
That crowns its sparkling head.

'Tis harvest time: a mower stands
Among the morning wheat and whets
His scythe, and for a space forgets
The labor of the ripening lands;
Then bends, and through the dewy grain
His long scythe hisses, and again
He swings it in his hands.

And she beholds him where he mows
On acres whence the water sends
Faint music of reflecting bends
And falls that interblend with flows:
She stands among the old bee-gums,--
Where all the apiary hums,--
A simple bramble-rose.

She hears him whistling as he leans,
And, reaping, sweeps the ripe wheat by;
She sighs and smiles, and knows not why,
Nor what her heart's disturbance means:
He whets his scythe, and, resting, sees
Her rose-like 'mid the hives of bees,
Beneath the flowering beans.

The peacock-purple lizard creeps
Along the rail; and deep the drone
Of insects makes the country lone
With summer where the water sleeps:
She hears him singing as he swings
His scythe--who thinks of other things
Than toil, and, singing, reaps.

(The end)
Madison Julius Cawein's poem: Idyll Of The Standing Stone

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Noera Noera

Noera, when sad Fall Has grayed the fallow;Leaf-cramped the wood-brook's brawl In pool and shallow;When, by the woodside, tall Stands sere the mallow.Noera, when gray gold And golden grayThe crackling hollows fold By every way,Shall I thy face behold, Dear bit of May?When webs are cribs for dew, And gossamersStreak by you, silver-blue; When silence stirsOne leaf, of rusty hue, Among the burrs:Noera, through the wood, Or through the grain,Come, with the hoiden mood Of wind and rainFresh in thy sunny blood, Sweetheart, again.Noera, when the corn, Reaped

Elusion Elusion

IMy soul goes out to her who says,"Come, follow me and cast off care!"Then tosses back her sun-bright hair,And like a flower before me swaysBetween the green leaves and my gaze:This creature like a girl, who smilesInto my eyes and softly laysHer hand in mine and leads me miles,Long miles of haunted forest ways.IISometimes she seems a faint perfume,A fragrance that a flower exhaledAnd God gave form to; now, unveiled,A sunbeam making gold the gloomOf vines that roof some woodland roomOf boughs; and now the silvery soundOf streams her presence doth assume--Music, from which, in dreaming drowned,A crystal shape she seems